


The Cocky Cardassian

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Julian is waiting for Miles for their planned darts match when he gets an urgent message from Garak. When he gets to Garak’s quarters, he’s surprised to see that Garak appears to be waiting for a date.





	The Cocky Cardassian

Julian stared at the message, a crease between his eyebrows and a slight downturn of his lips the only sign of his feelings. It wasn’t Tuesday and it wasn’t lunch. Julian, like the author of the short note on his padd, was a man of habit and routine, and this threw him like a misplaced hypospray.  
“Something the matter?” A hand clapped down on Julian’s shoulder and Miles O’Brien slipped into the seat opposite. “Hope it’s serious enough to put you off your game.”  
“Miles! No, nothing’s the matter. It’s just... we might have to postpone our darts match tonight. Something’s come up.”  
Julian looked up from his padd in time to catch Miles’ eye-roll. “Typical,” he complained. “Don’t I at least get to know who you’re standing me up for?”  
“It’s Garak,” Julian said, waving his padd as if that explained everything.  
Miles frowned. “Didn’t you guys have lunch on Tuesday?”  
“Precisely!” exclaimed Julian. “Apparently he needs my expert opinion on an urgent matter. Sent me a message summoning me to his quarters.”  
“I know he’s Cardassian,” said Miles. “But that’s a bit cocky even for him.”  
“Well,” said Julian, pushing his seat back to get up. “I suppose I had better go see what the cocky Cardassian wants.”

Julian walked in to Garak’s quarters when invited then stopped, staring in shock. An ornate bottle sat on a low table beside two tall, slender glasses. Real candles flickered at the slightest draughts from the recycled air currents. And Garak, wearing a wine-red tunic with gold braid around the deep vee of the neckline and matching loose fitting trousers, leaned casually against the doorway into his bedroom. Julian blinked, looking at Garak from head to soft, tan leather boots and back up again.

“I’m sorry,” said Julian, shaking off the image of Garak smiling for him. “I didn’t realise you had a date. Do you have time to tell me what the problem is before she arrives?”  
Garak laughed. He poured two glasses of thick, dark kanar and held one out to Julian. “She?” he said with a slight twist of his head and an upward quirk of his lips. “You make too many assumptions for a man of science, don’t you think, doctor?”  
“He. They. Whatever. Sorry.” Julian sighed and shrugged. “It’s just that we’ve known each other for a while and I barely know anything about you. How can I help you tonight? Are you sick?”  
“You can start,” said Garak, “by drinking a glass of kanar with me. Then you may call me Elim, if I may call you Julian.”  
Julian took a step back. “Garak, I’m your physician. It would be unethical for me to—“  
“Nonsense!” Garak walked over to the sofa and sat. He put Julian’s glass down and sipped his own kanar with a satisfied little sound. “It’s a good vintage. Shame to waste it now it’s open. I transferred my medical care to your colleague, Doctor Erdmann, this afternoon. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it.”  
“Well that would be because of doctor-patient confidentiality,” said Julian. “I’d’ve found out next time we did a personnel review. I’m more concerned that you didn’t think to tell me.” Julian took a step forwards. “Have I done something wrong? Are you unhappy with my care as your physician?”  
Garak smiled and shook his head. Julian thought he detected a sparkle in his eyes rather than the usual glint he got when he thought he’d gleaned information that could be squirrelled away and brought back up when it was useful. “Quite the opposite, my dear doctor,” said Garak, patting the sofa seat beside him. “Sit with me and drink kanar... Julian.”

Julian’s frown was back. He mulled over Garak’s motives for a few seconds until curiosity got the better of his distrust. One glass of kanar with a friend couldn’t hurt. He sat down beside Garak and lifted his glass. Garak grinned. “Well. To a more intimate friendship,” he said. “I like your new style. I suppose being a tailor has its advantages.”  
“Indeed,” replied Garak, leaning forward to clasp the bottle and pour more kanar for them both. The movement made the soft fabric of the vee-necked collar gape and Julian caught a glimpse of Garak’s skin. He wondered what it felt like and imagined tracing the mottled grey-green pattern on Garak’s breast. He wondered if it would feel warm or cool under his fingertips since, like other Cardassians, Garak kept his quarters well heated. He almost reached for his medical tricorder to take a thermoscan but Garak sat back again.  
“What were you looking at?” he asked. “Surely you have seen a Cardassian out of uniform before. Or do you have a particular interest in Cardassian anatomy? I might be able to help you there.”  
“No! I’m sorry,” said Julian. “I admit I was staring. It was rude of me.”  
“It was,” said Garak. “And I find that I don’t mind. You must have seen plenty of Cardassian flesh in your line of business,” Garak sipped kanar again.  
“Well, yes, I suppose I have,” said Julian. “But this is different.”  
“Because I’m alive?” said Garak, abruptly, then he held up a hand. “Please, excuse my bluntness, Julian. I meant no offence.”  
Julian bristled but the irritation passed. “None taken,” he said. “Actually it’s rather refreshing to hear you react honestly like that, Elim.”  
Garak beamed.

After a little inconsequential chit-chat and a few stretches of silence that seemed to become shorter and less awkward as the level of kanar in the spiral glass bottle dropped, Garak reached for the kanar, smiled and cocked a brow-ridge at Julian. Julian laughed and shook his head. He sat forward ready to get up.  
“I think not,” he said. “I do not have the hardy Cardassian constitution. I could almost believe you were trying to get me drunk to make me spill all my secrets or to seduce me or something.”  
“Ha!” Garak left the bottle where it was and took Julian’s hand instead. “If I have to get you drunk before you’d consider seduction as an option for the evening’s entertainment,” he said, “then you’re not the man I hoped you were.”  
Julian felt his face flush with more than just the warmth in the room. Garak examined his hand, turning it over and back, tracing the fine bones of his long, slender fingers.  
“You’d make an excellent tailor,” he said. “Nimble fingers for fine work.”  
Julian watched Garak’s appraisal of his hand in silence. He felt his stomach flutter and the scene took on a dreamlike feel when Garak lifted the hand to his lips, kissed the knuckles and the palm, then slipped it inside the open front of his tunic and held it against his skin.  
“It’s cool,” said Julian, following the progress of his hand with his eyes. “I wondered.”  
“Are you also wondering,” said Garak, “how far down my ridges extend?”

Julian dragged his eyes up to meet Garak’s intense stare. He nodded. Garak motioned for him to stand and Julian reclaimed his hand. Garak eased off his tunic and shook it out, draping it over the back of a chair.  
“Hmm, good Bajoran silk,” he said. “Very comfortable but very expensive.” Garak turned to face Julian. “You can touch,” he said, holding up a finger. “But be gentle. They are quite sensitive in places.”  
Julian traced the crest of each ridge with one fingertip. Garak closed his eyes and gave a soft gasp now and then, and Julian made sure to revisit those areas. After several minutes, Garak laughed and grasped Julian’s hands.  
“I need a moment,” he said. “That’s quite stimulating.”  
Julian smiled. He traced the ridges on Garak’s neck and face, then leaned in and kissed him.  
“It pains me to admit it,” said Julian quietly, “but there seem to be one or two gaps in my knowledge of Cardassian physiology.”  
“And I know little of humans other than how to... never mind,” said Garak. “Let us educate one another further in the comfort of my bedroom.”  
“If it’s for science—“  
“—and the continuing hope for good relations between our species—“  
“—then I suppose it’s our duty.”  
Garak smiled and nodded. “Indeed it is, and a good Cardassian never shirks duty.”


End file.
